Nashkel

Montaron sits up with a grunt. "And here ye be! Took ye long enough. Just mind tellin' them Amnians to see to their own business? We've got places to be!"

Xan's shoulders lift in a slight shrug. "Worry not for me, Aiwe. Elves are long-lived, and if the Seldarine are willing then my life will have meaning at some point. If not, well, they must have more important things on their minds."

His weary eyelids begin to flicker. "If you'll excuse me, cousin, I must get some rest now..."

Dieter eyes the horde of components and consumables. He decides to not form an opinion. Following Stella around he stands up straight and looks blankly in front of him his spear cradled in his right arm with his shield respectfully at his side. Out of the corner of his eye he examines the various entrances and exits running simulations through his mind of ambushes and attacks to keep himself occupied.

Stella blinks. "Oh! Well, excellent!" She begins searching for and gathering papers and inks. "What was your name, by the way? And that of your brother? We travel around a lot. Who knows? I might meet him someday." Once she has some, she asks, "Um...how much would you like for all of this?"

The miner spits his tobacco into an old vase that probably wasn't ever meant to hold such a thing. "Name's Oublek. An' ma brother's name's Rama. Well, took to callin' hisself 'Ramazith' years ago. Seemed ta think it were a better match fer a wizzerd."

He waves a hand at the ink and parchments. "Take all as what ya want. Best I can do with it is use it fer privy-paper, if ya catch my drift." Despite his general surliness, he grins a gap-toothed smile. "Least I can do for ya, what with yer big durn heroics down in the mine. I was outta work fer a bit."

Quote:

"Best I can do with it is use it fer privy-paper, if ya catch my drift."

Stella stops, draws her lips to a line, and blushes.

Quote:

"Least I can do for ya, what with yer big durn heroics down in the mine. I was outta work fer a bit.

"Oh thank you!" Stella says, composing herself and giving a nod. She was debating whether she should tell the man how much it was worth, but as a kind of payment for clearing the mine of the kobolds, it seemed fair to accept it.

She glances at Dieter, then does a double take as she starts picking up the supplies. He looked so...stiff. She smiles. But it was very comforting to have someone so vigilant around, and willing to guard her.

"It was a pleasure to meet you Mister Oublek," she says with a curtsy once she has the supplies. "I hope the work in the mines continues well."

"I think that's everything. Thanks for coming with me," she smiles at Imoen and then Dieter. Slightly longer at Dieter. She blinks a few times, and glances in the direction of the inn. "Well! Should we return to the inn? The others might want to leave to Beregost soon, but a bed tonight would sure be nice...Or maybe we should meet the others if they're still at the prison."

…. Do I have something on my face? Dieter thinks to himself as Stella smiles a bit too long at him.

"I’d avoid the prison. I do need to pick up more axes, Runeson seems to be enjoying mine too much for me to take them back"

Dieter gives the man a quarter bow before pivoting to follow the two girls. He walks behind them two paces back forming a pyramid. Dieter didn’t understand women but he knew they liked to talk to each other. Sometimes they liked to talk to him too but they always preferred it when he repeated what they said back to them using his own words.

Stella nods. "It seems wise to get you both a collection."

As they head to find a place to purchase weapons, she opens her tome to her ledgers, she purses her lips and taps her cheek with the end of her charcoal pencil, unknowingly leaving a black mark on her face. "Do you have anything against javelins?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder. "I've seen they typically further and are much cheaper to replace. I suppose I could see them being a bit more cumbersome and sticking out more, or maybe you've just practiced more with handaxes?" She looks forward, shrugs, and closes her book.

"Either way, we better pick up some more arrows for you while we're there," she says to Imoen. "I've figured out how to manifest my own ammunition for the most part, but it wouldn't hurt for me to stock up too."

Aiwë pulls her handpan into her lap. "Of course, Cousin. Will you let me ease your trance a bit, before I go?"

The echoing tones of the metal drum soon fill the room, echoing soothingly through the notes of Aiwë's favourite elvish lullaby. She lets the instrument speak for itself, enjoying the way her hands felt as they struck the petals of the drum, each note resonating differently in her bones. When her song is done, Aiwë creeps out of the room.

"See you soon, Xan, she whispers in Elvish, then closes the door behind her.

Aiwë uses Song of Rest for Xan.

Aiwë stares at the two unsavoury men, then laughs out loud. "Do I want to know how you two ended up in here? I'm amazed both of you made it here alive, traveling with each other as you are." She looks to the guard.

"What did they do to get locked up?

Imoen fidgets uncomfortably. "Well actually..." She pokes some stray pink hair back behind one ear. "I talked a lot with Dynaheir the last few days. Um, she says I have some innate talent for wychlaran magic. She says that I could learn to be like her!" Despite her discomfort, Imoen's young eyes shine. "Imagine me, a fancy lady like her, with mysterious and powerful magic!" She giggles nervously.

"So that would mean traveling with her and Minsc. And since they're going one way and you're all going another, that means I have to choose..." Her eyes shine again, this time with tears. "But, we'd still be friends, right? Forever? And maybe someday when I've learned some good spells I can help you again!"

Imoen's head hangs and her hair falls in her face. "Would... would that be alright?"

Montaron groans and leans his head far backwards. He mutters something under his breath, but Aiwe's keen musician ears pick it out: "Laugh at me again, girlie, and I'll give yer throat a big red smile."

Xzar, meanwhile, has pressed his face as far through the bars as possible, impossibly widening his grin. "Peek-a-boo! I see you! A hero true, a beauty, too! Tell him, do, through and through: By the river blue, we saved you... and your friends! Wahooooo!" He then slides down the bars to a sit and proceeds to do a fair impersonation of a gibberling. Or perhaps several. It's hard to tell.

"Ahhhhh." She looks at the guard. "Mind giving us a moment to talk?"

Dieter watches the tears well up in Imoen’s eyes. From where he stands it’s like watching a play looking in from a window, disconnected yet deeply involved. Imoen the witch.. Imoen the Wychlaran, her path was opening up and Her destiny apparent. He flexes his grip on his spear wondering if this was his only path aswell. Glimpsing down he sees his pommel resting against his floating rib "to live by the sword is to know your fate" ….Dieter cringes at his chronic introspection. "Of course Imoen we are friends and friends are always welcome" Dieter reassured taking a step forward but already he could feel their connection being cut and he knew he would likely never see her again after this. "You’ll need arrows for the road regardless. How is your travelling kit, do you need anything repaired or replaced?"

Stella stops, turns, and clasps her hands with a smiling gasp. "Ah! Talent for wychlaran magic! Imoen, that's wonderful!" She puts a hand on the spunky girl's shoulder. "Of course, we'll still be friends. I'm sure people at Candlekeep will still miss you, and we certainly will as well, but you'll learn many things from Dynaheir if you go with them, I'm certain."

She purses her lips. "There are dangerous people after her, but...well, I guess that wouldn't be any different from traveling with us, now would it?" She breaths a laugh. She smiles and gives her a hug and squeezes. "Mmm! May the stars watch over you."

She pulls back and nods in agreement with Dieter's suggestions. "He's right," she says. "You'll still need fresh supplies."